


Always Watching

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Blow Jobs, Character Study, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 12:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: I see you watching me.It’s just like in one of those cliché romance novels, where our eyes meet from across the room, lingering before the tide turns and we’re swept away by the masses of humanity between us. You take a step towards me and I smile invitingly.You’re intent on your prey.I hope you know who the real predator is here.





	Always Watching

**Author's Note:**

> This is different from anything I've ever written before and I've been on the fence about posting it at all, but after running it by a few people, I decided to go ahead with it. Many thanks to Embleer_Frith0323 for beta reading this for me!

I see you watching me.

It’s just like in one of those cliché romance novels, where our eyes meet from across the room, lingering before the tide turns and we’re swept away by the masses of humanity between us. You move with the crowd, following, never looking away. The strobing lights flash over us, over everyone, giving the room a monochromatic look one moment and wild burst of radiant color the next.

You take a step towards me and I smile invitingly. The music pulses through me but I don’t stop dancing. I keep my eyes locked on you. People try and stop you, wrapping their arms around your muscular arms, tracing fingers over the broad pectorals of your chest. The thin black t-shirt you wear is a nod to modesty I know you don’t have. It hides very little, from your sharp collarbones peeking through the v-neck collar to the line of abdominal muscles disappearing into low slung jeans. You eschewed the overly snug look there and I nod approvingly to myself.

The others are left by the wayside. You’re intent on your prey.

I hope you know who the real predator is here.

The song changes and with it, the flow of the dance. I move with the crowd and lose sight of you, but I know you haven’t lost me. No, you’re hooked and I’m drawing you in. I hope you realize I’m not going to make it easy on you, not after what you said. _What you did._

A hand clasps my hip, drawing me up against a warm body. It’s not you, not yet, but this will do for now. Tease you, taunt you, remind you of what you gave up.

A smooth voice murmurs in my ear, just loud enough to be heard over the song blasting on the speakers. “You’re the most stunning person I’ve seen here tonight.”

Flattery gets him nothing. I know I am. “I’m also taken,” I reply, even as I rock back against his obvious interest.

“I been watching you since you got here. Ain’t no one’s touched you once.”

“That could change anytime.”

The song changes again and we keep dancing, the stranger’s hands on my hips as he grinds against me. I arch my back and stretch my arms up, wrapping one behind his neck. I have no desire to see him, to touch him, but I have a show to put on because I know you’re still watching me. Watching this man paw at me, believing it’s his touch that causes my arousal to fill my snug pants.

No, it’s all you. I can feel your eyes on me, even if I can’t see you. There’s only so much you can take before you’ll step in and we’re nearing that point now as the other man’s hand starts trailing down towards the juncture of my thighs.

You appear out of nowhere, teal eyes blazing with an inner fury that makes all but the strongest of souls back down. The scowl on your face is one I’ve seen a million times, masked, unmasked, from behind the lens of a camera, and without. Criminals cower in fear before it and I can feel the man behind me stiffen as he takes your measure.

But he doesn’t back down.

Stupid.

Instead, his hand tightens possessively on my hip even as I lower my arm. Neither of us stop dancing while you simply stand there and loom. We both know who you learned it from. Even I do it when the need arises. I may be shorter than you, but I make every single inch count.

“You’re too late, bud!” the man behind me shouts over the music. “Snooze, you lose!”

You don’t say a word to him, but then again, you don’t have to. I match you glare for glare, refusing to back down. You’re the one who brought us to this, not me. You finally reach out, a few callused fingers trapping my chin as you lean in close.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe into my ear. “I am so sorry. Please. Come home.”

Home. Where I haven’t been for over a week now, not since our explosive argument. The one where you said I’d be dead now if it weren’t for you saving my ass time and again. You’d leapt into the line of fire for me, even though I had everything under control. You knew it, I knew it, but you did it anyway. Part of it was the pain meds talking, I know this, but just like the saying goes, drunk words are sober thoughts.

But this isn’t quite enough.

“What are you sorry for?”

Your hand on my waist forces me to stop dancing and the man behind me protests. I let go of him and flip him off. “You’re no longer needed.”

His hand tightens even more on my hip and I finally deign to glance over my shoulder at him. He’s not bad looking at all and if I weren’t in the midst of negotiations with my significant other of three years now, I’d be willing to entertain second thoughts. But as it is… “Let go if you want to keep that hand.”

There’s an edge in my voice that may be hard to hear in the loud club, but I make sure it’s translated into my glare. He backs away without another word, although I don’t miss the venomous stink eye he sends your way.

Whatever. He’s served his purpose, luring you out when you would have lurked along the fringes of the crowd, watching, waiting, hoping to catch me as I left. No, it’s better this way. Out here, I’m in control.

You’re glaring right back at him, the cocky smirk I fell in love with long ago on your lips. It falls when your gaze drops to me, softening, revealing the vulnerable side you rarely let anyone see. “I was wrong. You are strong. You can take care of yourself. You…you don’t need me.”

I raise a finger to your lips, refusing to let you fall down that rabbit hole again. I fought too long and too hard to drag you out of it. “I will always need you. But you have to trust me.”

The tip of your tongue presses against my finger, sucking it momentarily into your warm mouth that I’ve spent untold hours worshipping. “I do trust you, Tim. You keep me grounded and centered when all I want to do is let the pit win and suck me under.”

I can barely hear you over the music but I can read lips as well as you can. I smile softly, gently. “I’ll never let you fall.”

“I know.”

We leave after our exchange, driving home in my car. The single bag I’d managed to grab on my way out last week is secure in the trunk. You sit in the passenger seat, outwardly calm, but I see the telltale tapping of your foot against the floorboard. Something is still bothering you.

“What is it?” I ask when I finally pull the car into our little garage. There’s barely enough room for your motorcycle next to it, which I see is gone. It could be anywhere, including one of your numerous safehouses. I doubt you stayed after I left, not with all the memories we’ve built here together.

You glance over at me, uncertainty in your eyes, the set of your shoulders. “You haven’t accepted my apology.”

And to think, people call you the dumb Robin. You’re far from it, probably the most perceptive of all of us when you choose to speak up. “I haven’t. Not yet.”

I get out of the car and retrieve my bag. You go on ahead and unlock the door leading into our laundry. It’s pristine, which is not how I remember it when I left. Someone stress cleaned before he left.

Good.

You trail after me like a sad little puppy, so very different from your usual bravado. I let you stew while I settle in, eventually taking a seat on our overstuffed sofa. So many nights we’ve slept here, one or the other, or even both, so exhausted we can barely get our uniforms off. I stare at you, watching as you fidget nervously before I beckon you with an imperious wave of my hand.

“Push the coffee table back.”

You do wordlessly and fall to your knees in front of me when you’re done. This is a power game, yes, but it’s one I intend to use to drive home a lesson. That and I know you’re still recovering from that gunshot wound you earned with your foolishness. Alfred would have my head if I did anything to pop his careful row of stitches on your shoulder.

I lean forward and run my fingers through your unruly black hair. It never wants to stay tamed, as wild as you often are. “I know we often joke that I’m a hot mess, that I don’t have my shit together because I so often burn my candle at both ends, and leaving nothing left for anything else. But I think we can both agree that you help balance me out. I sleep better when you’re around, and you have zero compunction about taking my electronics away from me and putting them out of reach. Or giving me decaf and a sedative when I’m being particularly ornery.”

A small smile appears on your lips, a silent agreement on all these things.

I tighten my grip and your head tips back with it. There’s barely a few inches between us now. “My point is, I’m a better person because of you. Just as you are because of me. So when you do _stupid shit like taking a bullet for me_ , it pisses me off because at worst, I’d be in the same position you are, just from the front.”

The fire ignites in your eyes and I can see the retort readying itself. I wait and let you speak.

“I don’t regret it at all,” you tell me. “Given the chance, I will always take a bullet for you. I refuse to see you in pain.”

“And what about me seeing you in the same position? This is what we do, Jason. This is what we _will_ do until we can’t. You and I are both too far gone to be anything other than soldiers in a never-ending war.” I know the word will rile you up and it does.

“We are _not_ his soldiers. Not anymore. I don’t always play by his rules and neither do you. We make our own now. _Together_.” There’s heat and passion behind your eyes. You fervently believe your own words even as I don’t. Not fully, at least. We’ll always be soldiers in Bruce’s war, even if we march to the beat of our own drum.

“That still doesn’t mean I want you getting shot because of some misguided notion of protecting me. I can’t bear the thought of losing you anymore than you can of me. I know it’s hard, especially since those instincts run strong in both of us, but don’t do that again.”

That infamous stubbornness of yours rears its head. “I can’t promise that, Tim. I’ll try, but I won’t make any guarantees.”

It’s the best I’ll get and I know it. To be fair, if it were me in this position, I’d say the same. I nod and let go of your hair. “I accept your apology then.” I relax back into the plush cushions of the sofa and smirk, a tad wickedly if I do say so myself. “How do you plan to make this up to me?”

Your warm palms are already working their way over my knees and up my thighs. I can feel your heat even through the snug denim I’m wearing. “I can think of a few ways.” Your smirk is as wicked as my own as you start unbuckling my belt.

There’s nothing rushed as you worship my body, removing every piece of clothing like I’m some god whose alter you pray at. As tempting as it is to let you have your way, you’re injured, so I only allow you to lap at my cock, teasing it to full hardness with coquettish little licks that you know drive me wild as you deny me exactly what I want. But then you swallow my length whole and the pleasure races through me. Wet and warm, and when you hollow your cheeks, the suction draws forth a moan I am not ashamed of in the slightest.

Your mouth is heaven and while you may think you’re worshipping me, it works both ways as I don’t want to live without this ever again. Without you, I’m incomplete, lost in the maelstrom with no anchor. I hit the back of your throat and you reflexively swallow, accommodating me. Your hands grasp hold of my hips and your eyes tell me exactly what you want me to do. I thrust, slowly at first, then increasingly faster as I know you can take it. I withdraw to let you breathe and you chase after me, taking me back in.

When I come, I try to give you warning, but you refuse to pull away, just as you always do. You take pride in this, knowing that I only ever let myself go this completely with you. Lights swirl across my vision as I release a week’s worth of pent up frustration pouring down the back of your throat. You swallow around me, milking me once, twice, and the third time you let my softening length fall out of your mouth.

You rest your chin on my thigh and gaze up at me with heavy eyes, watching me as I come down from my high. I suck in air in breathy gasps, relishing not only the aftershocks of my orgasm, but also the pleased expression on your face. A soft kiss is pressed into the muscle and you finally rock back on your heels. I can see the straining erection pressing against the front of your jeans.

I want to wreck you. Completely and utterly destroy you and then put you back together. And you’ll let me if I just say the word. But I know under that tight shirt of yours are stitches, as well as bruised ribs from another fight I know you picked just days before while lashing out against my anger with you. Our games, as they so often do, have to go by the wayside as we heal. It isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last.

So instead, I settle for another favorite pastime of mine. “Take off that shirt and unzip your pants. I want to watch you get off.”

The only thing more stunning than watching you stroke yourself to your release is doing it myself, accepting every hard inch of you into my body while I ride us both into that sweet oblivion. Either way, you make the most wonderful sounds, but it’s your face when you’re so close that I find most precious. The raw openness, the vulnerability that appears for the barest moment…and then you come and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. My fingers itch for a camera, to capture this moment on film and add it to my collection. But we have a rule about that and so I capture the moment in my mind to be replayed over and over again.

I stand and help you to your feet when you’re done. “Come on. Shower, then bed.”

You nod and grasp my hand tightly as I lead us upstairs.

We clean up and I check your bandages, making sure everything is as it should be. You grumble under my ministrations, but it’s habit without any real venom behind it. I know you like it when I care for your wounds. Spoiling you. You thrive under positive attention and I make sure to give you all you need.

As we settle into bed, you wrap your arms around me and hold me close, even as I try to wrestle the blankets into place. We won’t stay this way all night, but it’s a nice way to fall asleep, knowing you’re in the arms of the one you love most in this world.

“I love you, Jason,” I whisper into the darkness.

“I love you too, Tim,” you reply with an audible yawn. “Now go the fuck to sleep.”

 


End file.
